A Mother’s Letter: Life’s Teachings

By Maria de Mouilpied

A Mother's Letter in an honest and open account of what God can do when and through a soul who is willing to step out in faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781925086072

Book preview

Letter

Acknowledgments

I would like to mention with gratitude my husband’s patience, throughout the many hours that I spent writing this book.

There were people who encouraged me by their positive comments; one of those people was my diabetic doctor, Dr. Tim Welborn, who made a point of asking me how the book was going each time I saw him. I also like to mention Dr. Giubilato who has been looking after my eyes for many years. I asked him to delay an eye operation until I finished the book, for which he replied; For that reason you need to have the operation, and then he commented, Many people say that they will write a book but they never do. I thought, I need to prove to him that some people do! Thank you Dr. Giubilato, you said exactly what I needed to hear to inflame my drive to get going.

I also like to thank Brian Fisher AM who helped me by proof reading the book and provided me with the help, which I really needed with the grammar and the finishing touches. Your advice and guidance has been so much appreciated without you, it would have been so much more difficult.

Brian you have been God sent! Thank you

Foreword

I felt inspired to write this book some time in 2004, I knew that it was going to be a big task but I also knew if it was the will of God that I do it He would provide the way. So I started from my personal early introduction to God and the Church, but I had no idea how I was going to find the material for the book.

Shortly after I started this book I was invited to do two Radio programs a week in a Community Radio Station and with all the work in producing the two, two hours weekly programs I had no time to concentrate on the book.

One day I was thinking; ‘how am I going to finish the book and evangelizing on the Radio as well?’ And at that moment I was holding a file with some scripts of my personal reflections and it came to me that I have been writing the book in those reflections.

I like to dedicate this book to my children, Paul, Teresa and Peter. It was very difficult for me to express my inner journey with them, because we were not always on the same page and I did not want them to feel any pressure from me. It really was not their fault, because they were never introduced to God earlier in their lives. So pointing the finger was the last thing in my mind.

I have written the Biblical part of this book in Italics to easily identify the source of my comments.

Growing in the Lord is a lifelong journey and the school that life has to offer is never ending. So, this book is not in any way saying, everything that needs to be said or even can be said, about this subject. I also need to stress, that this book is about my personal journey and in no way claiming that my way is the only way to Jesus.

It is about my own journey and it’s not intended to be the truth and nothing but the truth of the Catholic Church, which I love, except of course the parts that have been quoted from the Bible and the Catholic Catechism.

At every Sunday Mass, during the Liturgy of the Word, we have three Scripture readings, as set out by the Catholic Church and I did a personal reflection on each of those readings for our weekly radio program, ‘Jesus Está Aqui’, (‘Jesus Is Here’). The program was broadcasted in Portuguese, but Ray did a small part in English. The Program ran for five and a half years.

I decided to translate one full year of those reflections into English and share them in this book, because in those reflections one will encounter my heart and soul and a special gift from God; my love for the Word of God.

God is always the same, but His message is given to us in many different ways, consequently one will note sometimes similar comments from me on same parts of the book.

The reflections would be easier to appreciate if read one at a time, as they were given on the radio.

I cannot explain many things which I have written in this book, but I have tried to be as open and as honest as I can be.

Maria de Mouilped

The Roots of my Faith

My name is Maria do Nascimento Gonçalves and I was born in Madeira, Portugal in the year 1944.

I am the third of four children; my younger sister died when she was eight months old.

I am married to Raymond de Mouilpied and together we have three children, Paul, Teresa and Peter and two grandchildren Ben and Serena.

As a child I receive the Sacraments of the Church: Baptism, First Communion and Confirmation. When I received the Sacrament of Confirmation I was so young and shy that when the priest was examining me, I did not answer any of his questions, I passed the test because my Catechist told the priest that I did know all the necessary prayers. I was just six years old.

I still remember today how I stood before the priest with my head leaning forward and my chin just about touching my chest. Thank God, Confirmation is now encouraged at an older age!

My father immigrated to Curação when I was one and a half years old, my only remembrance of him is when I was five years old; he returned back to Madeira for a three months’ visit, and consequently my mother was the parent who took care of the family.

Financially my father took care of me for the first ten years of my life, but after that he stopped sending any money, so financially, life became very hard for me and the rest of the family.

Due to poor finances my Portuguese education was very basic. I had four years of half-day schooling in Portuguese, which was all we could have provided by the government. The classrooms were used for two classes each day; one class in the morning and another in the afternoon.

I went to the school for corrections, tests and to collect new homework and lots of it! I learnt to work on my own, because my mother could not read or write so help from her for my school work was not possible.

I was brought up as a Catholic, as were all my friends. Consequently choosing a religion for me was not difficult, as everyone that I knew in Madeira, was Catholic.

I went to Mass every Sunday, went to Confession and received Communion regularly, also participated in some novenas and the festivities, which were and still are very popular in the Churches around the Island of Madeira, celebrating the feast days.

As I look back I do not remember having a relationship with Jesus, it was more like doing what I thought I had to do because everyone was doing it, and it was so natural. It was my culture!

When I was twenty years old I was invited to go to Jersey, in The Channel Islands to work in a hotel; I accepted. It was here that my religion took a turn, with the pressure of long working hours and also not being able to speak English. We used to work during the season 7 days a week. Some days I used to work one shift, other days two shifts. It was at this time that my faith was tested, although I did not recognize it at that time.

The weekends were the busiest so the very first thing that happened was that I stopped going to Mass on Sundays and when I took time to think about it, I felt right, I thought. Nothing bad is happening to me!

I did not feel the need to even try to go to Mass even when the seasonal work finished and slowly but surely I lost the tradition or the habit of going to Mass on Sundays and along with it all the other religious activities.

I was mixing with a crowd that did not go to Mass or the Church at all; on the outside everything appeared normal to me and slowly even my prayer life disappeared from my routine. However I never forgot something that my school teacher told me to do, on my last day at school at the ripe old age of twelve; she said: ‘Mariazinha’ (which was the name that I was called) ‘whatever happens to you in your life, never forget to pray three Hail Marys to Our Lady for your own protection’.

I must confess despite all the years away from the Church, I was never far away from God or from my Catholic faith. I had many debates with members of other religions but no one ever managed to create any doubt were I belonged. I did not realize at that point that God was calling me back to the fold, but those debates where instrumental in getting me back as we will see later.

Soon after I arrived in Jersey I met my husband, he too was a non-practising Catholic so we had something in common regarding our faith or lack of it.

We were married in London a few months later in the Catholic Church. After our marriage, for a while, we went to Mass on Sundays, possibly because it happened to be between the hotel seasonal work and we did not have to work on Sundays or perhaps the priest who had married us said something about it when we were going to see him before we got married. I do not remember because my English was very poor at that time.

I returned to work for the busy season, again working seven days a week. By now I was married working long hours and pregnant, so going to Church was not a priority in my life. I was too busy and too tied! In spite of this I never forgot to say the three daily Hail Marys.

I stopped going to Church for the following twenty-two years except at Christmas, Easter and to have my children baptized.

Everything appeared to be going very well and I did not give God another thought all these years.

In the late 1980s something strange began to happen that was not supposed to happen, according to my calculations: my daughter Teresa started to go to a Pentecostal Church, and she would come home so excited about God. She would give me passages of the Bible to prove to me that I was lost and going to hell unless I went with her and be saved.

It was a very difficult time for all the family; she just wanted to save all of us.

One particular occasion Teresa was giving me such a hard time that I went for her, after missing her with a detergent bottle which I threw after her. I tried to slap her on her face but was not able to lift my hand; it was as though I had a huge weight holding my arms down. It was supernatural; there was no physical explanation, it had never happened to me before that day and has not happened to me since. It took me a few years to have the courage to share it with Teresa.

On the outside I was resisting but, within me, I felt that God was after me. It appeared to me that everyone that was close to me was being chosen by God one by one, I was becoming to feel that I was being left out of something. There was something within me that was saying to me: Well! Maria! What is it going to be? Are you coming or are you staying on your own? I was not happy to be made to feel cornered.

At this time something else began to happen, my mother and sister started to go to a prayer meeting as well; it was not enough for them to go to Mass on Sundays anymore.

I used to work selling light fittings in a lighting shop. One day an old man of medium to tall height, slightly stooped forward, walked into the shop. He bought a light fitting which was the top of that particular range. He paid for it in full and I wrote the receipt and gave it to him. He said, ‘I do not need the receipt, you keep it, I trust you’. I thought his reaction a little strange as he had asked me to keep the item in the shop, until he returned from work that afternoon. He said: ‘Hold it in the shop for me, and I will pick it up on my way home from work’. At this point I should have suspected that something about this man was a little strange; he was still energetic although an old man! He told me that he trusted me and did not need the receipt; he was trusting!

In the afternoon he came into the shop as promised and picked up his light fitting, but a few days later he came back into the shop and said to me that I did not gave him the right ‘light fitting’. I assured him that the light fitting was the one he paid for, I also told him that his light fitting was the top one in that series. ‘Why would I give you a better product that the one you have paid for’? I asked him.

He went home only to come back twice more, with the same complaint. Each time getting a little more aggressive, the third time it happened was a Saturday morning and there were other people in the shop, it was embarrassing for me. I resolved once more to show him the book with the pictures and the prices of the other light fittings in that particular series, to convince him that he had the top of that range.

Nothing seemed to make any difference, then he used the name of God in not so kind tones, but I could not hear exactly what he said for he turned his back to me and appeared extremely frustrated. At this point I said to him. ‘Please do not talk about God like that, because I am telling you the truth.’

It was at this point that I started asking God under my breath to help. I said ‘God you know I am saying the truth, I have tried everything, there is nothing else I can do and this man is suffering.’ At this very moment he turned to face me once more, this time a changed man, with a pleasant smile on his face and he said to me; ‘It looks to me that I have made a mistake.’ He took my hand and asked for my forgiveness and left the shop and I never saw this man again.

I did not realize at the time but I have come to believe that, that old man was sent by God to bring me to my senses and to teach me to trust God. This was the first time that somehow this teaching took place, but since that day I have had this experience many times in many different ways. I do what I can with whatever I have at any particular time and leave the rest to God. ‘It is not my job to make everyone happy; my job is to do what is right’.

I do not think that it is up to me to change the world but I do think that it is up to me to allow God to change me. I was not able to change that old man’s attitude with all the facts and figures which I had but prayer did it immediately; it was a powerful lesson. WHO WAS THAT MAN? Over the years I have wondered and wished I could see him again, I would have a few questions for him.

How could this man who trusted me so much; leaving me to take care of his goods without any proof of purchase be then fervently challenging me and my integrity, to the core of my soul, until in desperation I called upon God for help?

My Charismatic Journey

In late 1980s a friend of mine invited me to go to a Charismatic Mass that was to take place at Aquinas College. I was not really keen to go, but everyone close to me at that time appeared, to be going and I was feeling that God was after me and I felt powerless against Him. My daughter by now would not go anywhere without her Bible. ‘You must be born again’, she would say at every opportunity. Mind you some of the opportunities were created by her and her zeal to witness.

Deep within me I was secretly thinking that I also needed to know Jesus a lot better.

Anyway I went to that Catholic Charismatic Mass; people were carrying their Bibles just like my daughter. I sat half way down the hall; people appeared to me to be happy and holy. Everyone went to receive Communion except me; I thought to myself this is not a place for me. I felt that I was the biggest sinner that ever existed, totally unworthy to be there. I thought to myself; "how is it possible that everyone is receiving Holy Communion?"

At the end of Mass there were prayers available to anyone who wished to be prayed with. People were being prayed with and falling on the floor everywhere. I had been told about it but now it was before me and I could see it myself. Feeling distant and out of it, my good friend asked me if I would like some prayers for which I replied reluctantly; ‘I will go but be sure that I will not fall to the floor’! She looked at me, I guessed proud of her achievements thus far.

To my surprise, as soon as I got near to the praying team and their hands began to extend my way I fell to the floor, and even more surprising, when I hit the floor I did not want to get up, it was just so good and peaceful there.

I felt an acceptance, a love, a peace that I had never experienced before; I could not believe that it could be happening to me. I was very well aware of my shortcomings, but it did not appear to matter to Jesus? I truly felt his presence there!

That was the moment in my life that I knew that I wanted to know more about Jesus. It was that touch of the Holy Spirit, which was my turning point back to the Church. I also become aware that I needed to go to Confession and that I wanted to go to the weekly Charismatic Prayer Meetings. I was convinced that Jesus loved me! But before I went to my first Charismatic Prayer Meeting, I felt compelled to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation first.

I wanted to be all done first, cleaned out; I did not know at that time that I had so much to learn; mainly that a spiritual journey is lifelong and each step of the way, there are many obstacles that I had to overcome, and that I had to spend all my earthly life learning about me and in turn finding my place in God.

I have been involved in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal for many years. Five years as a prayer meeting member, going to every meeting and everything connected to the Catholic Charismatic Renewal movement that I could fit in my schedule. Ten years as a Prayer Meeting Leader and nine years of those ten years I also served as one of the four Coordinators of that time.

My years in this movement were full of wonder, joy, prayer, learning, meeting many different people with the same passion for Jesus and also much suffering.

Soon after becoming a member of the Holy Trinity Prayer Group, I attended a retreat that was being organized and directed by the prayer meeting leader of that time, Fatima, who is now diseased. The teachings for that retreat were taken from the teachings given in a conference in Canberra for the Catholic Charismatic Renewal that year.

A month before the retreat we were told to start praying in preparation for the retreat, which I took on board fervently. I was so excited to go to my very first retreat.

I did not know the way to New Norcia, where the retreat was going to take place, so I had to follow Fatima’s’ car. Unfortunately, there were problems which forced Fatima to return home to fix them, before she could continue. In the car with me, was my sister Laurentina. Fatima told us to wait where we were, on the emergency lane on the Kwinana Freeway, until she returned. We waited two hours on the side of the road but she never returned. We decided that perhaps we have been forgotten so we decided to continue our journey blindly. I said to Laurentina, ‘let’s set off and if we are meant to be there God will help us’. I did not know the address but I knew that the retreat was going to take place in New Norcia.

We started driving towards Midland, I knew how to get there and I also knew that Midland was in the way to New Norcia.

Eventually I saw a police officer who happened to be stopped on his motorbike by the side of the road. I asked him for directions and he said, ‘You are on the right road; all you have to do is drive straight until you get there’. We looked at each other and believed that it was meant for us to be there.

We found out later that Fatima did not forget us; she had car problems all the way to New Norcia, consequently was not there on our arrival, but managed to get there a few hours late.

During that weekend retreat I felt very close to God, it was as though I was there but at the same time I was not. There was a glare wherever I was looking at. During the second night of the retreat I experienced the presence of Jesus and His love for me. I did not sleep very much that night. I just rolled myself in the blankets and rolled from the top of the bed to the bottom and to the top again, trying to contend with my joy which was beyond words. Jesus and I were having a party that night, I could not see Him, but felt His presence so close and real and began to wonder how I could explain to the group my experience; as I knew we were going to be asked. Suddenly these words came to me; ‘Jesus is here! Jesus is with us! Jesus is alive’! And I knew that these words were what I needed to share with the group.

On the following morning the group met to praise the Lord for a short time before the teaching, we were all standing and holding hands together and I felt as though someone touched my hand with something that felt like the tip of a pen to get my attention.

I opened my eyes and looked but saw nothing; however, I went tumbling to the floor and joyfully said these words which were given to me during the night, ‘JESUS IS HERE! JESUS IS WITH US! JESUS IS ALIVE! I was so full of joy! At this point I found myself on my back with extended arms and open hands and something started to pierce my hands as if my hands were being pinned to the floor with rays of fine needles. I cannot describe it; I just know that it did happen. Right through the whole experience I felt so much love, peace and a very light feeling, it was as though I was made of cotton wool.

I wanted so much to share my experience with the rest of the group but I perceived that they were not that interested, so I just talked to Jesus in my heart. It was like Jesus was holding my heart with His hands and consoling me, I felt as if my heart was made of jelly, a blob o jelly in Jesus’ hands! The prayer meeting leader said to me afterwards; ‘you will never be the same again!’ I did not know exactly what she meant, but I knew she was right.

When I returned to the Church after so many years away, it was like the Father welcoming home the Prodigal Son. Feeling the acceptance of Jesus made me want to learn so many things about my Church which I had forgotten over the years, such as praying the Rosary.

One day just before Christmas and a few days after the retreat in New Norcia I was at Myer in Booragoon, buying some vouchers for Christmas presents and I felt the presence of God. The shop assistant was writing the vouchers and oblivious to anything else, but I felt something around me, it was as if I was in a bubble and that bubble was God. I asked Him in silence, what He wanted from me. And immediately those words were placed on my heart; ‘YOU WILL PREACH’. I continued with my interior dialogue ‘You are God and You are not supposed to make mistakes but this is a big one, I do not even know how to pray the Rosary, how can I preach?’ And those words followed; ‘GOD BLESS, WILL DO FOR NOW’. I do not know what was going on exactly, but it felt good and there was another shop assistant close by who was looking and smiling at me as all this was going on, as if she could see something.

Since that day ‘GOD BLESS’ has become constant part of my greeting vocabulary. It surprised me as it came out effortlessly, it might be a very simple thing, but it was not my custom and twenty years later ‘GOD BLESS’ are the words that I say when parting from anyone, anywhere, even strangers I talk to on the phone. It took me five years to look up in the dictionary to see what the word PREACH really meant. By now I had started leading a prayer meeting myself and felt that I was doing it in the context of the prayer meeting. Praises be to Jesus. It convinced me a little more that if Jesus asks anyone to do anything; He will provide the way and the means at the right time. This certainly has been my own experience. However it is also true that God does not reveal more than He has too, to encourage us along our journey which should be done in faith, relying and trusting Him at all times.

God answers the prayer of the afflicted, and sometimes He needs people to speak for Him, to take His love to them, to witness to Him with faith and courage. I believe that God sent me with an answer to someone’s prayer. This is what happened: I woke in the early hours of one morning and heard a sound in my heart as though someone was knocking on a glass window. It had a message and I understood that it was telling me to visit an elderly lady who was a member of our prayer group, Mrs Teodorica. It was a Tuesday and I could not go to see her as it was the day that my mother came to our house and she needed my attention all day.

So I decided to go and see the lady in question on Wednesday. But to my disappointment she was not home. I thought; ‘perhaps it is pension day and she had gone to the bank’. I went home with the intention of returning on the following day, which I did, but again, she was not home. At this point I began to wonder if I was going to be able to find her.

To make matters even more difficult, I was going on a holiday to Bali on the following day. As a last resort I decided to knock on the window of the apartment adjacent to the lady’s in question and was immediately surprised that the sound of the knock was exactly the same sound that I heard in the middle of the night, calling me to go and see her. At that moment and for a short time I felt confident that I was getting somewhere with my persistence. A gentleman came out and informed me that the lady was in hospital, but could not give me any further information.

I did not know which hospital she was in. I did not know the family’s name. I did not know how on earth I was going to find her, but after a few phone calls I was able to discover the family’s name.

I got in touch with Fremantle Hospital and found out that she was in the Intensive Care Unit. I went straight away and when I arrived at the hospital I still had no idea what I was going to do or say to Mrs. Teodorica. She had a big family and in the intensive care section, the hospital policy is that only two members of the family can visit the patient at the same time, but in this family three at a time were allowed as it was a big family.

I arrived at the nurse’s desk outside the intensive care unit and asked for information about the lady in question and the nurse on duty got up without saying a word, opened the door and nodded for me to go in. It was interesting that she did not ask if I was a family member, nor did she guide me to the waiting room where all the family members were waiting their turn to see Mrs. Teodorica.

Standing beside her bed were one son and two of her daughters. As soon as the son realized that I was there to see his mother, without a word he went outside.

While all this was going on, quietly within me, I was trying to persuade God to let me know what was I suppose to say to her, but nothing happened until I reached her bedside. As I approached the bed I said to her, ‘Jesus sent me here, He loves you….’ The words just kept coming and the lady reacted as if she understood what I was saying, which led me to believe that she was praying in her heart as she was connected to machines and unable to speak. There were tears all around due to her reaction, it was clear that she needed to hear those words. God speaks to His people. He desires to use our hands, our feet, our mouths, our ears and most of all He wants to use our hearts. I believe that God wanted her to know that He was listening and was very close to her; she died peacefully a few days later.

I left for Bali on the following day but I let our prayer group members know that she was very ill and some members continued to visit with her until she died.

I loved going to my weekly prayer meetings, I would not miss them unless it was for reasons beyond my control. I also began to love the Word of God and going to Mass was a whole new experience. I was so hungry for the Word of God, I felt so sensitive while listening to the Word of God and often just cried and cried for no apparent reason. I could not stop crying nor did I want too, as I felt so very close to Jesus at these times.

I was unable to listen to the Word of God during Mass for three weeks and it caused quite a bit of stress within me. I tried so very hard, but it was as if I came out of a sleep the exact time that the presiding priest finished reading the Gospel. One day I went on my knees and put my head on the floor in my bedroom and begged God to help me hear His Word, at that time I thought that I was deliberately being punished and prevented from it. Later I found out that in fact it made me realize just how much I loved and needed to hear the Word of God.

Spiritual Teachings

I call my experiences teachings of the Holy Spirit and these teachings went on for a long time. One time I was taken by someone to many places; I did not know who it was. I just felt the presence of someone right through the experience. I could feel and touch things. On a windowsill was an almost empty bottle of milk, I picked it up playfully and pretended to drink the tiny bit of milk left in the bottle, immediately I was made to understand that it was not mine to have. It was done firmly but very gently. Then I saw someone but I cannot remember who it was, but at that moment I knew and felt angry towards this person and again the presence who was teaching me said; ‘NO! NO! LOVING’! At this point I started to float over a very big chimney, it was very black and full of smoke, by now I was left there on my own. I started to fall into the chimney; I struggled and managed to get to the other side. Inside the big chimney there were many voices, and it sounded like a very unpleasant place to be in. I started to pray to Jesus and my guardian angel to help me.

This chimney was very tall and wide. It was as though I was on the top of a mountain. And as I looked around it; I noticed that it was surrounded as far as I could see by a sea of dirty water. I had no place to go!

It went very nicely until this point, but now I was getting frightened, but I decided not to be afraid but to trust Jesus. As I made this decision, I saw the picture of Jesus of Mercy, just the face and it was not clear, like if it had a veil covering it, it faded away and in its place I saw very clearly the face of Jesus with a beard, I believed it to represent Jesus while He was here on Earth, He was smiling. This and many other teachings of the Holy Spirit, I believe, were trying to teach me not to fear anything but trust in Jesus in all situations.

I was experiencing the power of the Holy Spirit in the context of the weekly prayer meetings, but I also was touched often during Mass and it was at Mass during the week that Jesus manifested Himself to me on a Friday at the nine am Mass at Our Lady of Mount Camel Church in Hilton.

I opened my eyes at the beginning of Mass and I remembered seeing Jesus carrying the Cross, He was wearing a type of tunic, it was very dirty, He was swinging from side to side as if He was very drunk. I saw it as if I was looking into the sun, there was an orange background as though the sun was setting, but it was getting dark. I saw Him as a bodily person but it was more like looking at a shadow. I could tell that He was so muddy and dirty, He had shoulder-length hair and it was matted as if He had dried mud on His hair.

I thought at that time that I must have dreamt it. I remember thinking I am not worthy of dreaming such a thing and I put it out of my mind. I forgot all about it until I went to our Wednesday prayer meeting. We were holding hands and I just fell to the floor, I got up and thought that to be funny, I thought that the carpet was so soft and it made me fall. I could not stand up. I had rested in the Spirit before but this was different.

As I stood up again I realized that I was staggering just like I had seen Jesus in what I had thought to be a dream; it had become clear to me that it was not a dream.

I felt that Jesus was asking me to be an example and for the next year and a half I used to fall, it was as though I had no bones to hold me up; it happened mostly at Mass and was more likely to be during Communion or immediately following Communion.

My knees just turned to jelly and it was very hard for me to stand up. It was also a cause of much suffering because I was so sensitive and felt extremely alone.

When I look back now I know that what was happening to me was between Jesus and me and it was no one’s responsibility to take care of me. I praise God with all my heart for everyone whom God sent my way and to everyone I was sent to but in particular I thank God for my spiritual director; she helped me keep my feet on the ground at this very difficult time on my journey.

When the time arrived for me to have a spiritual director, the Holy Spirit inspired me, to ‘Pray for a spiritual director.’ I was praying for a priest but God gave me a nun. It took me a few months to find one. I asked the prayer group leader how I should go about getting one, for which she said ‘I will get you a list of the names of the spiritual directors and you will be able to pick one. I waited a few weeks and nothing happened, so I decided to go to our Parish Priest, Father Shorts, who gave me a booklet with the names of the available spiritual directors of that time.

Eventually I felt inspired to see a nun, Sister Paulina. The first time I called she was away for a few months, the second time I called her; she was away